


Andy's Alt-Day

by Hawkbehere



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5866123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkbehere/pseuds/Hawkbehere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crack!Fic. Andy has a very interesting day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Andy's Alt-Day

The alarm clock’s insistent whine was the first indication. That wasn’t Miranda’s alarm clock. Miranda’s alarm clock was like a velvet butler whispering you awake. This sounded like that blaring piece of crap she and Nate used to have. She jolted awake and shut the alarm off. It was the piece of crap she and Nate used to have. She looked around her. In fact, this was the apartment she’d shared with Nate. She’d gone to sleep with Miranda in the townhouse the night before and now…oh…holy fuck. There was really only one explanation for it. She was in someone else’s fanfiction. She couldn’t have really expressed how she knew this but you can feel when a story isn’t yours—and this one definitely wasn’t hers.

Alright. Get a grip, Andy. The question was—who was she in this one? She hesitantly got out of bed and looked in the closet. Whew! Okay. Nate didn’t live here. One answer. Also, it was obviously still the 21st century, so she was hoping it wasn’t too AU. But was she stammering, shy klutzy Runway Andy in this one? Or slightly more self-assured Mirror Andy? Or maybe she was that rare Andy who was entirely self-assured, seductive and a maniacal hellcat in bed.

Oh God. Speaking of seduction, exactly whom was she sleeping with in this one? She hoped fervently it was Miranda. Other pairings were fine but she liked Miranda. Or maybe she was in the middle of some drawn-out seduction? Was she the seducer or was somebody else—or was it one of those tentative “We love each other but need sixteen chapters to say it” mutual things? She sighed. She’d done all of that stuff in her story already, bagged Miranda, and was going to be ripshit pissed if she had to do it again.

She looked at the clock. Fine. 6:36AM. Time enough to figure out where she worked so she could dress for it. She reassessed the closet and sighed more deeply. Definitely Runway. In a way, that was cool since now she was certain Miranda was involved, but it was going to be crazy awkward if Emily felt her up in the bathroom or something because that wasn’t her pairing. This Emily might not know that. Oh—and was Lily her friend in this one or not? The Lily in her story was great but if she had to deal, or not actually, with the hand-of-righteous-indignation-over-Nate Lily, that was going to suck.

It was hard to dress for another Miranda. Which one would she be? The haughty, supercilious bitch? Or the slightly more humane version? Or the one who was entirely self-assured, seductive and a maniacal hellcat in bed? The variations she might encounter were really dizzying. If this were an early chapter, for all she knew Miranda was still married to Stephen. Jesus, she hoped not. She prayed that she was in the third act and this wasn’t one of those angst fics. Let the angst!Andys handle that. Her story had the basic narrative devices of conflict and resolution and all that shit but it was happy. This one had better be.

She decided on slacks and relatively sensible heels in the event she was involved in a crackfic and zombies or werewolves were involved. Honest to God, if that happened, they’d better watch the fuck out because she was going to go straight the fuck off. Like this day needed to get any worse.

She assumed the coffee order would be the same because not many authors fucked with this part of the canon. Andy smiled at this—Miranda could be a bazillion different characters but she always drank her coffee the same way. She rolled her eyes. Authors!

She took a deep breath as she entered the office and encountered Emily. “Finally, Andy. Honestly. Were you bringing coffee from New Jersey?”

“Yep, Em. They were fresh out of coffee in New York State.”

Emily gave her a poisonous glance that thrilled Andy. Definitely no eye-shagging there.

Her heart pounded as she delivered Miranda’s coffee. “There you are, Andrea. You finally grace us with your presence.”

Fuck – maybe this was the first act. “Sorry Miranda.”

“Don’t apologize, Andrea. Improve.”

“Yes, Miranda.”

Absolutely no meaningful eye-contact. She scurried back to her desk cursing inwardly. First act? This could be the first chapter!

The day seemed like a typical first-act Runway day, with Andy scurrying about in a semi-panic and Miranda an ice-cube in her chair. The break in the case came when Miranda demanded that Andy accompany her to the board meeting to take notes. She nodded and grabbed her pad and pen. When Miranda stepped into the elevator, she made the slightest motion of her head to indicate that Andy could join her.

Yes, Andy thought.

When the elevator had moved one floor, Miranda pushed the emergency stop. “You're not to sit next to Irv at this meeting. I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

Andy felt a stabbing sense of horror. Surely she wasn’t in something so AU she’d be sleeping with Irv?!

“The girls will be with their father tonight and you will deliver the book.”

“Yes, Miranda.”

Miranda stepped closer and lowered her voice, “When you do, I’m going to fuck you in every room in the house.”

Andy blinked. Okay. Target identified. Incoming maniacal hellcat in bed.

“And Andrea? That ass is mine tonight. And I do mean that literally.”

Miranda punched the button as Andy blinked some more. Okay. Anal sex was on tap, so to speak. She almost giggled. That was sort of alt for her. It wasn’t a staple in her story. Hell, it wasn’t even a food group in her story . But at least it was Miranda. Once they finally got there, they always enjoyed each other in bed. In for a penny, in for a pound. Wait. Pound? Oh dear.

As she followed Miranda down the hall she wondered what this meant. Was this just one of those tormented fucked-up-fucking stories or did she and Miranda love each other? Or maybe they hadn’t declared themselves yet. Or maybe they were star-crossed lovers too messed up to love each other in this one? For the love of God, she hoped not. Zombies would be better than that.

***  
When Andy delivered the book, Miranda immediately pulled her forward and gave her the hardest kiss she’d ever had. She took Andy’s hand and forced it down between her legs, where she encountered something that was also hard—and long. My goodness. This wasn’t a fixture, so to speak, in her story, either. Miranda led her to her bedroom and Andy saw condoms and lube on the bedside table. As Miranda ran her hands over her body, Andy knew this was about to get really interesting, really quickly.

Two hours later , Andy was blinking again—blinking in astonishment—having just been completely and thoroughly debauched in every orifice suitable for such a purpose. Wow. That had been…different. It hadn’t been lovemaking, by her estimation—just flat-out and ferocious fucking. Not that there was anything wrong with that. She was pleased that Miranda was holding her and stroking her skin tenderly but she was wondering what this actually was between them.

Miranda answered by saying, “I think it’s time you moved in, don’t you, darling?”

Andy thought she pretty much played off her astonishment. “Do you…you don’t think it’s too soon?”

“Well, we’ve been together for six months. The girls and I love you and we miss you when you’re not here.”

Yes, Andy thought. Finally! Finally two sentences that told her what the fuck was going on.

“I love you too, Miranda and, of course, I’d love to live with you guys.”

Andy did a quick story diagnostic. This seemed really third act and…neither of them was visibly pregnant. Good. Everyone was safe and happy. Better.

Just then the phone rang. Miranda’s personal line—something only the children or family used.

Miranda answered and sat up abruptly in the bed. “What? You’re serious?! Alright—take care of the children—We’ll see you there.”

Andy asked, “What’s wrong? Is something wrong with the kids?”

“No! That was John. Zombies! There are zombies descending upon New York.”

Andy leapt out of bed, “You have to be fucking kidding me! After all this, you mean this is a fucking crackfic?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry, Miranda—but this story is so lame.”

“We don’t have time for your hysterics, Andrea. We have to leave right now. We’re meeting John and the children in Connecticut.”

Andy rolled her eyes. “Why Connecticut?”

“Zombies have a natural antipathy toward Connecticut for some reason. Hartford in particular. We’ll meet them there.”

Hold up. Okay. That was weird. Andy tilted her head. “Hartford? Wait-a-second. This is a dream, isn’t it? It’s totally a dream.”

“Keep your head, Andrea. We need to get out of here.”

“Right,” Andy nodded at their sex toy, “You might want to pack that—we might need it.”

Miranda gave her a look that could have peeled paint off a wall.

***  
And that’s when Andy woke up, and gloried in feeling Miranda’s body next to hers.

She looked at the familiar walls, furnishings. Good. This was her story.

Miranda stirred and kissed her neck. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah—I had a weird dream right before I woke up, though.”

“Tell me.”

“It was like I woke up in another story of my life, not this one.”

“Well, we’re all writing the stories of our lives every day, darling.”

“Yeah. I guess we are. Get this. At the end there were zombies.”

“Really? If there were any here, we’d just go to Hartford.”

Andy’s eyes popped open. “Why’d you say that?”

“Everyone knows that about zombies.”

“No they don’t. There aren’t zombies in real life. Am I dreaming again?”

“I know I’m not. And I don’t think you are—let’s get coffee into you and find out.”

As Andy drank her second cup of coffee and ate breakfast with Miranda and the kids, everything seemed normal. Exactly what she expected. Perhaps that’s what life was like, she thought. You never really knew you were living in an angst-fic or a crackfic until some plot device popped up—and there you were—where you never imagined you’d be. She hoped she was living in a happily ever after fic, but how could she know? Maybe she couldn’t. Not until the very last line of the story.

_~fin~_


End file.
